


Gary Stu Is Also His Password

by lyvanna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Characters Reading Fanfic, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Not In Any Way Canon Compliant, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyvanna/pseuds/lyvanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek stops by Stiles' house to get some research help and discovers his fanfiction collection. Including some stuff about a sulky Alpha werewolf. </p>
<p>Or, the one where Stiles wishes he was just watching porn but everything turns out alright in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gary Stu Is Also His Password

_Derek slid his fingers up the back of Stiles’ thighs and leant in to lick him from root to stem._

Derek blinked. He looked at the screen again but the words hadn’t changed despite another experimental blink. He leant backwards slowly but his eyes didn’t waver. He heard Stiles open his door, heard the boy’s heartbeat suddenly go through the roof, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

"What," he said slowly, “is this?"

"That’s, uh…" Stiles stood the doorway to his room, an almost overspilling glass of coke in one hand, his mouth slack and his face a heated red, “My uh.. I mean not my, someone sent me uh—"

"I split your ass open?" Derek read, squinting at the screen, “That sounds like it’d hurt,"

"Oh My God," Stiles somehow managed to maintain the presence of mind to keep from spilling his drink as he dashed across the room, slammed down the glass and leant in front of the werewolf to lock his computer with a couple of keystrokes. He caught unsteady breaths and leant back out of the werewolf’s personal space. 

Derek frowned at the black computer screen. 

"And is my cock weeping because I have some kind of infection or is it just the situation—?"

"Look, ok, so some friend sent me that, it’s like… this fiction that people write—"

"I know what fanfiction is," Derek said.

"You..? Oh ok weird, but, well it’s about these characters, and they thought it was funny, because they have the same names as well, you and me and…"

"There’s a fictional character out there called Stiles who is friends with a werewolf with a.. ‘huge throbbing penis’ called Derek?"

"Yes, well," Stiles was pretty sure he was suffering from a full-body blush coupled with frozen limbs of terror, “See, it’s funny, that’s why they sent it," an idea of the terrible variety formed, “Scott! It was Scott he found it and… well it wasn’t even our names, he changed the names and—"

"Scott writes porn about us?"

"I know right, no boundaries that guy, have to have a word with him. I’ll! _I’ll_ have a word with him. Uh, was there, something you wanted?"

He reached for his drink in an attempt to look nonchalant like he wasn’t living the nightmare of every teen that leaves their room and forgets to put something innocent and neutral up on their computer screen so that if they slip and die their parents can believe for all of five seconds that they were looking at puppies and rainbows rather than 4chan or something.

He felt his fingers slip several times on the glass before he got a good grasp. Derek’s frown was still centred on the computer. 

"Uh, big guy?" Stiles asked then _immediately regretted_ his every life choice even more than he already was because of a particular line of dialogue in a body of literature they were suddenly both very familiar with. 

"What does root to stem mean?" Derek asked, looking at him finally, confused. 

"Well, you know, from the base of my—his.. to the tip of his…" Stiles really wished he hadn’t indicated that with hand motions on his crotch and added a rather loud, “I would imagine," as if he had no extensive internet search history, bookmark list and external hard drive on the subject, before adding defensively, “Hey, what do I know, I’m just a kid?"

From the whiplash that the Alpha suffered, actually stepping backwards so far he almost fell out of the open window, Stiles might as well have thrown in a few goo goo ga ga’s and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Actually he did do the latter in the fanfic but more as a means of lubrication than—

"Hey, where are you going?"

Derek had a wide-eyed panicked look on his face all of a sudden and one foot out of the window. 

"Didn’t you want my help or something?" 

Forget the rather unfortunate beginning to their conversation, if Stiles was needed he wanted to help. Besides, hopefully some talk of giant carnivorous sea-monkeys or beautiful bridge trolls would help Derek forget everything else that had gone on here. If he left now he might be thinking about it for hours while he brooded alone, perhaps lying in bed, cool sheets shaping his…

The moral of the story was that Stiles really needed a non-sexual distraction. And while Derek standing there in his vest and ass-hugging jeans was certainly not that hopefully some open hostility and talk of slime would do that. Non-sexy slime.

Derek was still standing half-in and half-out of his room. 

"Derek?"

Slowly, like he was approaching an enraged snake (um, imagery) Derek pulled his foot back into the room and watched Stiles wearily, “You are a kid," he said finally.

"I’m seventeen," Stiles frowned, straightening up a little, he was as tall as the Alpha now. 

"Still a kid… you shouldn’t be…" he waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the computer.

"Heh, boy, do you not remember being a teenage boy,"

Clearly for some unknown reason it was the wrong this to say because Derek wouldn’t meet his eye. Well, he wasn’t meeting it before but that was more embarrassment, now he wasn’t due to something else. He was looking way too introspective. It struck Stiles too late that perhaps Derek remembered far too well what his own teenage years were like. Death, loss, pain. But he could relate. 

"I just meant… teenager, horny," he tried to keep it light but his voice was barely a whisper. He wanted it to be an apology but the situation had become so awkward now he felt an apology might push them into another dimension. If he wasn’t in hell dimension already. 

"So you were reading that to get off?" Derek asked suddenly.

Bastard.

Stiles felt like he’d been played somehow into admitting something but he couldn’t quite work out how. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times and Derek took a small but noticeable step closer. 

"I… might have found the subject matter not toooo…" he searched for something noncommittal but only managed, “objectionable. In a theoretical sense of course," 

"Stiles," Derek fixed his eyes on him, finally, pinning him in place with a gaze.

"Mm?" Stiles squeaked. 

"Did you write that?"

Stiles’ eyes darted from the computer and back to Derek. He considered how far he was from the door behind him. Derek pressed forward,

"Did you write ‘he slid two slicked up fingers inside, stretching him out and listening with…’ what was it? Ah, ‘contentment to the whines coming through the pillow’"

"Fuck…" Stiles breathed, “You memorised all of that?" he found they were very close now and his body was telling him flight was the safer option but his legs were rooted to the ground. 

"It was very memorable," Derek’s eyes flicked down to his lips and back up again, a small movement. 

"It was only a story," Stiles said, small and dismissive, his own eyes watching Derek’s chest rise and fall. 

"And how many ‘stories’ do you have?"

"I, uh.." Derek smelled pretty good up this close. Like, amazingly good actually. 

"Isn’t it a bit strange, writing all these stories about yourself?"

"Well… incase you haven’t noticed my life is pretty strange so I guess.. no?"

"I mean—"

A thought struck Stiles like a freight train.

"I swear to God if you say ‘strange to be writing these stories when you could be living them’ I will pass out. My blood can only move so fast around my body Derek," he looked at the other man, a little panicky, a little hopeful, a lot embarrassed. Derek paused awkwardly, “Oh God, you were going to say that weren’t you? You were totally going to use that cheesy line on me!"

"I don’t think you’re in a position to talk about purple prose," Derek scowled. 

Stiles flung up his arms and looked to the skies with wonder, “He knows purple prose," he offered up to the ceiling. That was why he only managed an ‘oh shi—’ before Derek’s mouth collided with his, all clashing teeth and saliva. After a couple of excruciating seconds they pulled apart. Stiles’ face tried to grimace while simultaneously express the emotion of jumping for joy. Apparently he might have pulled off deranged as Derek was now looking worried, like he might have broken him.

"Oh shit," Stiles wheeled away from Derek and started pacing his room, adrenaline now vibrating through his body, “Oh shit oh shit," Derek’s eyes tracked his movement while he stayed completely still, hands held out like he might have been about to grab Stiles but had forgotten, “That. Was. Awesome. Oh shit, I mean, not awesome obviously, it was awful, worse first kiss ever, but like… you kissed me. We kissed. Let’s do it again," he stopped his pacing and lunged towards Derek who might have honest-to-God whimpered before pulling away. “Or…not," Stiles scratched his head and looked at Derek contemplatively. “Ok, so I’m thinking you might be thinking I’m a sucky kisser, but give me a chance, you kinda sprung that one on me, but I’m ready now," 

"I came here to talk about pixies," Derek said like he was looking at his past self from the mouth of a well and contemplating jumping.

Stiles blinked, “Pixies shmixies, their taste for human flesh doesn’t develop until the second spawning week, lets get it on," he made grabby hands towards Derek but didn’t move forward already feeling slightly like he was backing the other man into a corner. “C’mon, if you’re good I might read you some more of my—that fanfic. Also I can only apologise for my behaviour right now, I may be a little bit drunk on adrenaline and shock, you did kiss me right? That happened? I’m starting to feel like it might have been a hallucination or the start of a really vivid sex dream or—"

"I kissed you," Derek admitted, possibly more to himself than Stiles. 

"You did," Stiles grinned encouragingly. Derek pushed off the wall that he’d been backed against and moved closer to Stiles. Suddenly his heart was beating a little too fast, his hands were a little too clammy, his breathing a little too short. This was a bad idea. Derek was all up in his space, he could feel the body-warmth radiating. When the werewolf refused to move any closer Stiles leant in slowly, brushed their noses together, dragged his lips gently against Derek’s, eyes fluttering shut. Then they were kissing, properly, beautifully, and Stiles was grabbing at Derek’s vest, and the Alpha’s hands were running greedily through his hair and the world was bottoming out into delicious darkness before they broke apart, gasping. Stiles wanted to laugh but he didn’t have the oxygen so he settled for bumping his fist against Derek’s chest a few times in an attempt to tell him he did good. The werewolf had his face in Stiles neck and was possibly sniffing there so Stiles figured he’d take that as a compliment as well. Derek’s hands felt hot and possessive against his sides and Stiles realised he found that all kinds of a turn-on. 

"Was that good?" Derek asked finally. 

"Sure," Stiles said slowly, Derek’s playful tone a little suspicious. 

"So you’ll read more of your story to me then?"

"Uh," Stiles’ brain scrambled, “I promised that a long time ago, I’m a different person now Derek," 

Derek dragged his hands up and down Stiles’ sides, he was wearing a t-shirt but it was damnably thin and against Derek’s touch kinda felt like… ok, now he was definitely popping a boner. Two kisses and he was already hard, that didn’t bode well for the future. 

"You don’t want to read me your erotica?"

"Oh, ugh," Stiles gagged at the word and actually pulled out of Derek’s grasp, “Seriously dude? No, don’t even laugh," Derek was laughing, “Can we go with something a little more— or actually never speak of it again, that’d be better, I mean when people ask how we got together I want a better story than we were trying to out-creep each other what with you sneaking into my bedroom and me—"

"—Describing the length and width of my dick in verse form?"

"Well… that was a first draft," Stiles said defensively, “Or, rather, an only draft, because second and third drafts of porn featuring people I know would be more than a little crazy. I acknowledge this,"

"I’m not the only one you write about?" Derek quirked a perfect eyebrow at him. 

"Well, who knows what the perils of nightblogging and excessive caffeine will bring," Stiles waved his hands dismissively, “the important thing is that we’re here now with plenty of time to make new memories that _completely erase_ some others,"

"Ok," Derek agreed, “but please don’t ever call me sourwolf during sex,"

"I… wait, they’ll be sex?"

Derek shrugged in a way that said ‘well, of course’. 

"Sex as in now sex?" Stiles asked, a little too excitedly. The thought may or may not have him panicking. Only his rapid heart-beat and confused fluctuating boner could tell you. 

Derek glanced down at his crotch then away, like he was being stealthy, then gritted out, “No, not now.."

"Because you want to romance me first?" Stiles grinned. 

"This is a bad idea,"

Stiles wasn’t having any of that shit. No take-backsies. 

"Oh, you want me to romance you," he tugged on Derek’s vest and the werewolf came to him compliantly, “Well I’ll romance your ass off," he smiled against Derek’s lips. The werewolf didn’t take the hint to kiss him but was still holding that resistant look. Reality was kinda forcing its way into his peripheral vision. Crap. It was kind of easy to hide behind smart comments and easy flirtation. Being serious was harder. “Derek," he tried.

Derek looked at him, unhelpfully stoic. 

"I.." was it strange to feel nervous about whether someone liked you when you’d already made-out with a them and could feel what you were pretty sure was his hard-on pressing against your hip (if that was a semi he was in some serious trouble), “I mean, clearly, I like you," he said the words but didn’t really get the full impact of what they meant until after they left his mouth. I mean, sure he’d thought them a few times, maybe during some special alone-time moments, but never actually said them out loud in anyone’s presence, not least Derek’s. The only time they’d really spoken about having any feeling for each other it had been distrust and even though he’d felt it change over the last few months neither of them had acknowledged that fact out loud. “I like you," he repeated with sincerity, “and I don’t know what that really means or how it’d work. I mean my dad, Scott, werewolf crap—sorry, I mean supernatural crap I suppose… school. I don’t know how all that fits in. Or if it can. I’m not exactly well versed in relationships or whatever you want this to be. I’m not asking you to be my husband or my werewolf mate — is that a thing by the way? — and if you really mean no you don’t want to do this then that’s fine and, well, we’ll both have to have some brain bleach, but I’ll forget this ever happened, but—"

"Stiles," Derek mercifully stopped him, totally serious when he responded, “I just don’t know if you can take my knot,"

"I…Well, I’ve been practicing," Stiles smirked, barely missing a beat. Derek’s eyebrows almost flew off his face.

"I. Uh. Werewolves don’t…" Derek stuttered. Stiles enjoyed him panicking while simultaneously hiding his slight disappointment at this information.

"Relax, I knew that," he didn’t, “I was just messing with you because you were derailing my super-romantic speech because it made you feeeeel things," 

"I wasn’t—"

"Please, your eyes were rotating so fast I think they were trying to take off out of your skull,"

"My eyes that are ‘the color of demantoids’? Which I assume are some kind of…green?"

"Heeey," Stiles plucked at Derek’s vest, “I thought we were past all the humiliating quoting of forgettable literature and onto the kink negotiation part of our relationship…" Stiles smiled and leant in slowly, changing the subject “You look cute when you blush," he planted a light kiss on Derek’s lips. 

Derek’s face did that thing where he tried to look offended to hide the fact that he was secretly preening. Or so Stiles guessed, it was that or he was intensely uncomfortable. Stiles took a chance,

"Yeah.. I won you over,"

"I wasn’t.." Derek raised a warm hand and cupped Stiles’ cheek, “really resisting," he pressed their foreheads together, “I was flattered,"

If that wasn’t the most adorable, terrifying thing that Stiles had ever heard he didn’t know what was. He stalled time with a kiss that quickly evolved into several. And because he couldn’t just let a moment be sweet and pure and all that crap the idea entered his mind that now that they were in this situation he really wanted to touch Derek’s ass so while distracting him with some inventive (or possibly bizarre) tongue movement he slid his hands down slowly. Waist, belt, jeans then—

"Sweet jesus," Stiles squeezed reverently. Derek hid his exasperation in Stiles’s shoulder, resting his mouth there and just breathing in steadily. “If I hadn’t sworn off writing not two minutes ago I’d be composing a sonnet about now.."

He had absently composed two lines before Derek lifted his head and looked at him seriously, “We’re going to take this slowly," he nodded to himself in what Stiles saw as smug congratulations at his moral superiority, “We’re going to go out. And we’re going to tell Scott. And your father. And we’ll go to a movie. And a park. And a restaurant. And…" he drifted off. 

"No more ideas in your generic-dates rolodex?" Stiles snarked to hide the fact that all those dates sounded amazing. In that he’d be amazed to see Derek Hale out in the sunlight of a park or interacting normally at a restaurant. “And let me guess, no sex."

"Lots of sex. But not yet," 

"You smell great, did you know that?"

"Thanks,"

Stiles smiled, “You want me to take my hands off your ass,"

"Is your sonnet going to be in iambic pentameter?"

"You’ll never find out." 

"I think we’ve already established that I will eventually find out all your secrets,"

"I don’t think the votes have come in yet on Creeper Of The Year. And you’re forgetting third party candiate Peter." 

"I could always go to Lydia for my research needs,"

"Her fanfic is a lot more steampunk femslashy. Besides, I think you did quite well out of this trip."

"If you do say so yourself. When the pixies are eating my flesh next week I’ll remember to count my blessings,"

"We’ll have plenty of time to make the poison with your no-sex pact,"

"I’m not sure about that," Derek took his revenge (or caught up, depending on how you looked at it) by grabbing a handful of Stiles’ ass, causing him to jerk forward and grind against Derek in an unhelpfully erotic way. 

"Uh…Wanna make out until my dad comes home?" Stiles choked out. 

Derek smiled and goddammit if that wasn’t unfairly sexy, “Isn’t that the first line in your story?"

"And it worked out well for those guys,"

"Ok," 

"Ok?"

"Ok."

Stiles pulled Derek towards the bed, murmuring “I can’t believe you just John Green’d me," before silencing any protestations with a kiss. 

~~fin.~~

**Author's Note:**

> just a little bit of silliness. love all you Sterek fans.


End file.
